


The Detective’s Death

by SKwriter



Series: Who Killed Markiplier: The After Stories [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Who Killed Markiplier
Genre: Gen, No one really dies, The reader Is not the district Attorney, WKM, Who Killed Markiplier - Freeform, major character temporarily dies?, what happened after the fact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:17:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKwriter/pseuds/SKwriter
Summary: Abe died, everyone knows that.The Colonel shot himBut then again no one really dies in that house.





	The Detective’s Death

He could barely comprehend what was happening. A flurry of motion, a ear piercing bang, and numbness that took over; his hands, holding on the gun, shook madly, and before he knew it his weapon slipped out of his trembling hands. His ears fell deaf to any noise; his eyes never left the face of the colonel. All the color left from the colonel’s face, his attention darting from the gun and his victim. The detective's vision faltered, the whole world around him being drowned in a sea of blurriness, blind spots dotted his eyes. Then, like a flash, the excruciating pain settled in, like someone struck a match and set fire to his insides. Agonizingly, sucking the air through his teeth, he felt the oxygen escape from his lungs. The bullet sent tens of thousands of needles stabbing his wound. Warm, wine red, liquid seeped through his clothes, staining everything with it’s touch. 

The feeling of his legs were nonexistent. Through his hazed vision, he could see the good, the innocent even, attorney approaching the colonel.

_NO, no the attorney had nothing to do with this._

Desperately, the detective reached out towards the attorney. Tears stinging his eyes, he internally cried for his legs to run, to save, what might be his last partner. But he fell. His legs gave up on him. His senses dulled, but he was still subjected to the torture of watching the innocent die. He didn’t hear the bang, he didn’t see the blood, he could barely feel anything. But as a last attempt to make these final moments a living he*l, he watched as the attorney fall off the balcony. Helpless…..

_But why wasn’t he dead yet?_

“It wasn’t my fault, I didn’t mean it…. It wasn’t my fault.”

He whipped his head around to the noise. There, sitting on a bench, was the colonel. Cradled in his arms was a cane. Wait… where was he? The detective took a double take on his surroundings, no he did a double take on himself. He wasn’t lying down on the floor, he was standing on both feet. Blood wasn’t spilling out of his stomach, no pain, no fear. He no longer stood at the balcony, but at the first floor. What was going on? 

The detective scanned the area, the place looked normal, but something felt off. Was it the mirror? No. Carpet? Not exactly. Nothing was out of place. He charted every nook and cranny of this place, Mark’s…direct order. He felt his stomach drop at the thought of the man. 

_“It’s not fair is it?”_

The area grew dark once more, but he could see. A body dropped, to...the ground? There was no ground. What were he standing on? He could barely make out the figure. A young male, average height, dark brown, or black hair. Stabbed thirty-seven times, poisoned, beaten, strangled, drowned, and shot, and now he actually looked the part. Lying in front of him, lifeless, was Mark. The detective flinched. Now he had to be dead. Damn, he couldn’t even avenge a close friend. 

Two new figures came into view. Blue and red auras surrounded the two. They paid no mind to him. Their eyes only focused on the one beside him. The detective looked next to him. He sputtered and jumped back. The gorgeous attorney, you was still alive. The detective nearly hugged you and he would’ve if, he could actually touch the attorney. Trembling, the detective fazed right through. He slapped his head over is mouth. Their conversation went on as the detective fell on his knees. 

_This was his afterlife? Did the fates hate him that much?_

“This was your fault!” He hissed, standing back up on his feet. The detective circled around the seer. 

“I knew,” He spat, scowling, “I knew that we never should’ve trusted you.” 

The detective knew she couldn’t hear him. What was he stupid? He just...wanted, no needed to vent, needed to scream. Who else did he have to blame? The person who was really responsible wasn’t here. 

_“Mark took everything from us.”_

The detective stopped in his tracks. _What_

No, no, what the hell there was no way. What did Mark have to do with this? Mark was dead, that was final. What was this horseshit? How could’ve Mark been behind this? He just couldn’t comprehend how a dead man could be responsible for ruining all these people, but the detective continued to begrudgingly listen to what the seer had to say. 

What he had gathered from the conversation was, almost nothing. Mark planned his own murder and then stole the mayor’s body. Even the soft-spoken Mayor was cursing their late friend’s name. Then Mark was to blame? The Colonel just played into his hand? This whole thing was a scheme for revenge? He wasn’t there to serve justice, he was just a pawn. Rage burned deep down in his soul. A rattling untamed anger crawling its way out.

_But who killed you?  
_

_Who fell right into his hands?  
_

_Justice can’t be served to someone who is now a mayor.  
_

_So what will I do with this rage?_

The thoughts swirling in his heads muted the end of the conversation. He didn’t realize that the three were gone, until it was too late. It was quiet. The sounds of the voices were gone. Before he could even comprehend their absence, one came back. 

_“Please, Detective...Abe. I need your help.”_

The attorney’s voice rung through the empty void. 

Abe couldn’t bare to meet the eyes of his dear partner. 

“Abe, you still have a chance,” You desperately called out, “you can go back, bring justice…”

Abe lifted his head. “What justice?” He spat, eyes burning with hatred, “I’m sorry but how can justice be served in this situation.” He paced around the attorney. “The Colonel is out scott free, it wasn’t even his fault was it? Mark was the one who set it all up, but how in the ever loving fuck am I supposed to bring him down to justice.”  
You opened your mouth to reply, but he wasn’t finished. “Oh, a man who we all thought to be dead is alive, but not in his own body. No, he’s in the body of the fucking Mayor. Who would believe that? And most importantly I’m FUCKING DEAD we’re…” he cut himself off, paling at the realization. 

He had known all along. It wasn’t old news, but hearing it out loud. He just didn’t know what to do. They couldn’t do anything. They were just dead.

“We’re not dead yet.”

Abe scoffed. “And I thought attorneys was suppose to be smart.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m serious, there is a way,” You snapped.

“Then why don’t you leave this place yourself.” 

“I...I can’t,” You mumbled, hugging your arms closer to their chest, “but you still have a body, mine may be gone, but you still have one.” 

“I’m getting a strange feeling of dejavu,” Abe bitterly said.

You looked away, staring at a white patch in the wall that wasn’t there before. “Don’t worry I won’t use you like...they did.” You growled, placing your head against the white patch. “I wouldn’t be able to.”

“What happened to you?” He asked, walking towards you. 

When he finally arrived to the white patch, he realized it wasn’t a white patch after all. It was something like a window. Beyond it was the Colonel, smiling like a madman, crying out to two friends that will never come back. If he could just reach through it, he could strangle that man, but as he reached he was met with only the cool glass, separating him from there. Another figure came into view. Abe felt a chill creeping up his spine. Cold, calculating, almost lifeless eyes occupied the figure’s face. His suit, untidy. His hair, a mess. But those eyes… 

“That’s my body.”

You let out a dry laugh, “They changed it up quite a bit, haven’t they?” You turn towards him, helplessly. “I’ve been pushed out to be stuck here,” You admitted, “You on the other hand still have the power to go back. Your body may be damaged, but you can still go back.” 

“And what make you think I’ll go out there without you,” Abe said, his eyes never leaving the face of the attorney. 

You let out a dark, hollow chuckle. “You… you gave me no choice to become your partner,” You said, cupping one hand on Abe’s cheek, “now it’s my turn.”

“I’ll be fine by myself in here,” you continued, smiling, “just go.” You slowly removed your hand from his cheek. 

Abe opened his mouth to protest, but suddenly he felt pressure on his shoulders. His eyes widened, realizing what the attorney just did, Abe reached for you, however, he was falling too fast. You had pushed him through the window. His chest tightened, his breathing became heavier. You apologetically smiled, your eyes glossy with the tears being kept at bay. “Good-bye,” you cried, the tears escaped from your eyes. 

His eye lids weighed his eyes down. He struggled to keep them open with no avail. For the last time, the world grew dark, the figure of the attorney dissipating with the his vision. 

* * *

Abraham awoke with a sharp pain. Letting out a pathetic yelp, he forced his eyes open. He prepared to be attacked by a bright light, however, he was met with an eerie darkness. He could see, through the window, that the sun had dipped all the way into the horizon. The satellites and stars occupied the night sky. Instead of basking in the view, Abraham look back down. A pool of blood had formed under him, staining everything from his head to toe. He was freezing, a chill crept up his spine. He darted his eyes around the room. The balcony looked exactly the same. Nothing seemed different. It was oddly uncomfortable. He attempted to move his arm, it was only then when he realized how stiff he felt.

_Crack_

Abraham flinched, knitting his eyebrows. The cracking of his bone continued as he raised his arm. Recognition dawned on his face. Rigor mortis. He was essentially a corpse for twenty four hours. It explained his body temperature and the stiffness. It twenty minutes, it took twenty minutes to get back up. He cursed aloud after he finally got back up. The pain from initial wound remained, but it seemed to be numbed.

The man dragged himself to a familiar room. Papers scattered around a desk. The large cork board was covered in article, pictures, and notes he had jotted down. He leaned on the desk for support, when he accidently placed his hand on a piece of glass. He snatched his arms away from the desk and turned to look. A picture frame. Abraham grabbed the frame, examining it. He clenched his fists upon realizing who was in it. Throwing the picture on the floor, he spat on the ground. A couple more cracks formed on the glass. The Colonel was almost unrecognizable.

Abraham spotted a phone sitting on top of the desk, perfect. He took the phone and punched in a number. The phone rang out, expectedly. A voicemail bot began to speak through the phone, explaining the instruction to leave a voicemail. Finally, the feminine voice came to a screeching halt, leaving only a beep. The man smirked, finally. 

He took in a deep breath, which was quickly interrupted by a fit of coughs, nevertheless he began to talk. “Colonel,” he started, mustering up as much venom he could spit into that word, “if you can hear this, you better run.” He slammed the end call button.

Abraham hissed, pressing his hand against the wound. Propelling himself off the desk, he sluggishly walked out of the study, breathing harshly. He somehow navigated himself to the lower floor without toppling over. Your body was gone, the cane was gone, and most importantly the Colonel was gone. His face twisted. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a mirror. The man’s eyes flashed in regret. He walked over the the mirror, slowly. There you were, the district attorney. You forced a smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes. He placed his hand against the glass, and you returned the gesture by placing your’s were his would be. Tears shimmered in your eyes as retracted your hand. Abraham kissed the mirror, right about where your forehead was, before turning his back on you. It was time to get revenge. Not only for himself, but for the district attorney. 

**_They would pay._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Just to make myself clear the District Attorney is not the reader. The DA is it’s own person with it’s own personality, own goals, and own feeling. This DA is essentially my OC. You are not the DA, the DA is no one, but someone who has been stripped of it’s identity.


End file.
